


Wolves on Atlantis

by danceswithgary



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Ancient Technology, Animal Transformation, M/M, Pre-Slash, SGA Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2017, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: Okay...weirdest dream ever.





	1. John Goes Running

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wolves in Atlantis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607622) by [Antares](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antares/pseuds/Antares). 



It had been a long day on P1C-343 with a 10K hike and an unexpected zap from an innocent-looking statue. John was glad to be back on Atlantis and finally headed for his bed. Shuffling out of his bathroom - one towel around his waist and another scrubbing his hair - John _yawned_.

A full-body yawn that felt like it popped every joint in his body, not just his jaws. A few moments later, as he blinked through a film of tears, he realized he'd dropped to the floor and was on his hands and knees. 

Wait a minute - paws? 

He looked down again. 

Yep, definitely paws and covered in dark gray fur, too. He shook his head at the sight, which translated to a full-body shake and the sensation of fur settling against his skin...

Okay...weirdest dream ever. 

John waited for the dream to fade into something more interesting like flying naked or maybe watching Rodney bent over repairing something complicated, preferably with both of them naked. When he stayed stuck as a not-naked furry thing, John licked his chops and headed for the door, hoping a change in venue would shift the dream into something less freaky. 

As John padded quietly down the hallway, heading toward the jumper bay where hopefully some flying would happen, he approached a glass panel. A reflected image startled him until he realized the dark wolf shape had to be him.

Cool.

If he had to be even furrier than normal in a dream, being a wolf was a bonus. John wondered what Kate Heightmeyer would have to say about that, but then decided he'd keep it to himself. Maybe he'd pull it out in an emergency situation - like when she pushed him to talk about feelings.

The hallways were empty, as was the jumper bay. John picked his favorite and the hatch lowered as easily as doors had opened. His claws clicked a few times on the grooves of the ramp as he entered, the lights remaining low in the cargo section. They brightened when he approached the pilot's seat, but that was as far as he could go. Despite every effort, his paws were useless on the yoke, the jumper remained grounded. His lip curled back as he growled in frustration. Having enhanced senses and a strong body were useless if he couldn't fly.

Exiting the jumper, John paused at the door and, following an irresistible impulse he lifted his leg and marked it, thinking, 'mine.' With a wolfish huff of laughter, he left the jumper bay and headed for the eastern pier. Flying was out, so he'd settle for running. He headed for the east pier, but a strong scent drew his attention as he trotted past one of the gardens the botanists had set up under a skylight. Approaching one of the freshly tilled sections, John sniffed deeply, the earth rich and ripe in his nose. He scratched in it, dislodging a few plants, which released an irresistible scent. He dug up a few more and then rubbed his nose through the crushed leaves. It wasn't enough, so John rolled in the mess he'd made before jumping back to his feet to shake vigorously, scattering earth and leaves as far as the walkway between the beds. Instinct satisfied, he resumed his search for open air.

The two full moons caught his eye as he trotted outside. Their gleam drew his attention again and again, as he raced around the perimeter testing his dream body. Although he could only sprint at full speed for about thirty seconds, a steady lope ate up the distance with ease. Slowing to a walk, John breathed in the heavy scent of the salt air, not certain what it was comprised of, only that it was complex and layered. At the end of the pier he halted and gazed up at the moons. He licked his lips and wondered, then startled at the sound of a howl. It hadn't been him, although he'd been thinking about it. Giving into another impulse, he lifted his head and called to the heavens with a long mournful howl, the call carrying all his fears and regrets since first stepping onto Atlantis.

That one howl was enough. Suddenly weary, John left the pier at a slow trot, wending his way along empty corridors. As he passed one door, he paused, recognizing the scent of the owner, one he was intimately familiar with. He sniffed around the edges of the door then lifted his leg, anointing one side and thinking once again, 'mine.' With a final sniff, he continued on to his quarters, heading straight for his bed after entering. Pawing the blanket into a rounded nest, he circled twice before flopping down with a heavy sigh and closed his eyes.

Definitely the weirdest dream he'd ever had.


	2. Rodney Tries a Howl

Rodney suppressed a violent yawn as he approached his quarters, his eyes watering from effort of not proving just how wide his mouth could stretch – a bad habit one of his short-lived girlfriends had complained about. As he tried to blink away the blurring moisture, a dark shadow crossed the corridor ahead, gone by the time he'd knuckled his sight back to normal. Shaking his head, he muttered something about not handling 22-hour days like he used to at university. 

Skipping a shower would only serve to wake him back up, Rodney merely brushed his teeth before stumbling toward his bed, shedding his clothes along the way. It was too much effort to find something to sleep in, so he skipped that too, merely falling on his bed in his favorite position - belly down. Closing his eyes, he expected to be asleep in seconds. Unfortunately, he was so overtired he was suspended in a half-awake state, drifting. 

Instead of being irritated by his body's refusal to give in to sleep, Rodney settled even deeper into the bed, anticipating a few pleasant minutes of lucid dreaming that might help him solve one of his many problems. It wasn't one of the helpful dreams, however. With an odd, full-bodied shudder, he felt his body transform, but not into the tabby cat he expected. Curling up and raising his head, he checked himself out, wondering why he was a dog this time. Deciding it wasn't important, he stretched luxuriously across his orthopedic mattress, enjoying the feel of the Egyptian cotton against a pelt longer than a cat's, although he missed the ability to purr. The deep rumble through his bones would inevitably slip him into a deep sleep. 

The smell of his pillow caught Rodney's attention. Shoving his snout beneath it to take a few deep sniffs, he cataloged each scent layer he discovered. Intrigued by the intensity of the dream, he allowed himself to leave the bed to explore his room. In the bathroom, he barely resisted a sudden urge to lift his leg against the side of his sybaritic tub, startled by the deep need to mark it as his. Turning to leave, he was startled by his reflection in the shower doors. 

He wasn't a dog. He was a wolf. The dream made sense now because the statue that zapped him and Sheppard had looked like a wolf. Carson had cleared them both, but obviously something had lingered in Rodney's subconscious. That mystery solved, he left the tiled room to pace around the increasingly confined space of his quarters, wondering why he hadn't moved into a deeper sleep. Halting for a moment by the door to the hallway, he considered options before deciding his much-needed rest wasn't to be found out there.

Changing direction, Rodney trotted to the balcony doors, opening them with a thought. He stepped out into a mild breeze laden with even more complex scents. Sitting on the cool metal floor, he allowed his mind to roam, analyzing the senses of his dream body. He contemplated the two full moons in the star-laden sky and didn't resist the impulse to lift his head and howl, the sound resonating through his skull to rise in the air, one of the most ancient of melodies. As his salute to the moons ended, Rodney thought he heard a response in the distance, but quickly dismissed it as fanciful as the rest of the dream. Finally feeling the need for deeper sleep overtake him, he went back inside, leaving the balcony door ajar. Jumping onto his bed, he circled once clockwise then twice counterclockwise before curling up, his nose tucked under his tail. Closing his eyes, he fell into a deeper sleep, his lullaby the sound of the ocean.


	3. Discoveries

John felt a little achy when he woke up, his arms and legs feeling as though he'd been working out in his sleep. As he cautiously stretched, feeling the pull of tight muscles, he remembered bits and pieces of his wolf dream. It was as though he'd acted out the running in his bed, harder than one of his sessions with Ronon. A hot shower helped, and he was back to feeling limber as he pulled on his clothes, although he still felt a little tired. He was glad he'd begged off running with Ronon, claiming an early meeting. 

It hadn't just been an excuse. He really did have a meeting scheduled with Lorne to go over assignments and paperwork John had been putting off - just not as early as he'd implied so that he could sleep in. Stopping by the mess for a cup of coffee and muffin to go, John barely made it into his office before Lorne walked in. Settling behind his desk, John took a big bite of muffin and a slurp of coffee before he asked, "So what's first?"

Lorne looked up from his notepad with a frown. "Well, I got a call from Dr. Parrish first thing this morning. It seems we might have an infestation of some sort in the gardens. Something dug up some of the new plantings – made quite a mess. I have the biologists doing a head count on their specimens, the same with the medical researchers."

"Anything on the surveillance videos?" John finished his muffin and casually wiped his fingers off on a napkin, although his heart rate had increased as he recalled another piece of his weird dream. 'It's merely a coincidence,' he told himself, ignoring the fact that he'd brushed dirt and a few bits of green off his sheets that morning. It had been a long hike and the stuff could have fallen off him when he'd stripped for his shower.

Lorne shook his head. "Nothing. Dr. Zelenka explained that Atlantis only registers the entry and exit of humans or Wraith. Anything smaller is ignored. He's looking to see if that can be re-programmed because we really don't need vermin ruining the crops."

"No, we don't. Keep me informed." Leaning back in his chair, he picked up his own notepad and brought up the assignment roster Lorne had emailed him. "Okay, this looks good. Go ahead and distribute it. Now, what's next?" With a heavy sigh, John resigned himself to being stuck behind a desk for the next few hours, the freedom he'd enjoyed in the dream quickly fading in the harsh light of day.

 

A buzz from his comm woke Rodney from a deep sleep. He fumbled for the elusive earbud on the table next to his his bed, barking, "This better be good," when it was finally in his ear.

"And good morning to you," Zelenka grumbled back, fearless before Rodney's pre-caffeinated temper. "Major Lorne has asked for internal surveillance to be re-programmed," he continued. "I thought perhaps you would wish to be informed."

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Rodney sighed. "Yes, yes. Of course." He shoved back the sheet tangled around his legs and frowned down at his nudity until he recalled why he wasn't wearing any clothes. "Why and how?" he asked as he got up and headed for the bathroom. "And can this wait until I'm showered, dressed and have had at least one cup of coffee?"

When Zelenka agreed it could wait, Rodney huffed and removed the comm, tossing it onto the counter before stepping into the shower. Seven minutes later, he was walking out his door, having mastered the knack of shaving in the shower years earlier, as well as always storing his clothing in sets – underwear, socks, trousers, and shirt stacked together for quick changes. As he exited into the hallway, an odd odor had him wrinkling his nose in distaste. "What the hell?"

Looking around, he didn't see anything that could be causing the smell, until he looked down and saw a yellowish, viscous puddle next to the door jamb. He bent over to sniff, receiving instant verification that the liquid was the culprit. He thought for a moment before reaching into a pocket and pulling out one of the latex gloves he used when handling unknown items or substances. Pulling it on, he gingerly touched the puddle with his index finger, scooping up some of the sticky liquid and smearing it against his thumb, trying not to breathe in. With still no clue as to what it was, he pulled off the glove, turning it inside out and tying it off at the wrist for delivery to the chemists for analysis. If Atlantis had taken to leaking fluids, Rodney wanted to know what they were and how to stop it as soon as possible.

 

"I thought I'd find you here."

John jerked, his shoes slipping off the console and thudding to the deck of the jumper. Switching off the diagnostic HUD, he swiveled the pilot's seat to see Rodney standing in the doorway, with his arms crossed and a lop-sided grin. John grinned back asking, "You didn't tell Lorne, did you?"

Rodney shook his head. "No, but only because he didn't ask. I take it you're on the run from paperwork again?"

"Hey, I got a lot done today," John protested, rubbing the back of his neck as he ducked his head. "I was just taking a break." A snort made it clear Rodney wasn't buying his story, so John resorted to distraction. "Um, so dinner and the game?"

Rodney turned on his heel and led the way out, grumbling, "I deserve that much after today. I swear, sometimes it's not worth getting out of bed in the morning."

"Do I want to know?" John asked as he walked down the ramp, turning at the bottom to watch the jumper close up, safe and sound. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rodney bend over to look at something on the floor.

Straightening with a huff, Rodney pointed an accusing finger at the jumper. "Great, it's not just my doorway, it's your stupid jumper too!"

"Hey!" John protested, stung by the insult to his favorite. "My jumper is not stupid!"

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Fine, it's not stupid, it's just leaking."

"Leaking?" John hurried to Rodney's side, worried that it might be something serious. When he saw the yellowish stain, he flushed, because where once might be coincidence, twice was approaching damning, and Rodney had mentioned his door, so yeah, not good. "Just looks like maybe something dripped off it, maybe from the last time I took it out."

His eyebrows rising in disbelief, Rodney slowly shook his head. "Are you okay? I'd think you'd be as worried as me, especially since the chemists haven't figured out what it is yet, although I'm not sure they've even tried. Probably tossed the sample in a to-do bin." 

Grabbing Rodney's arm, John tugged toward the jumper bay exit. "Nah, it doesn't look anything like what used to drip from the helos, and the jumper didn't show anything on the diagnostics I was running."

"All right! Stop yanking me around!" Rodney pulled his arm free and smoothed down his shirt. "You may not be worried about strange liquids, but wait until you see my latest improvements in the game."

Feeling as though he'd just dodged a bullet, John smiled and nodded and pretended to listen to Rodney's boasting, wondering what the night had in store for him.


	4. Wolfen Games

Rodney wasn't nearly as tired as the night before when he went to bed, so he didn't expect another round of lucid dreaming. It started with a shiver against his cool sheets, followed by awkward thrashing as he tried to get out of the boxers and t-shirt that were trying to strangle him. He solved the problem with a few tugs with his teeth before he noticed he was standing on four paws next to the bed, wearing fur again.

This time, Rodney was determined to explore outside his room. If he was going to be stuck in another lucid dream, he might as well take advantage of it. Losing no time, he padded toward the door, which opened with a thought. That started Rodney wondering if animals carrying the ATA gene, like Carson's mice, could escape confinement using a mental component. His musing was interrupted by the smell that had stopped him that morning. Although Rodney had cleaned up the puddle, traces lingered and Rodney gave the area a thorough sniffing, wondering if he could solve the riddle with his enhanced senses. The scent reminded him of something in his past, but he couldn't pin down the memory so he gave up for the moment and headed down the hallway. 

When he reached a four-way crossing, he paused, not sure where he wanted to go, but then another scent claimed his attention, a primal musk. His senses tingling, he followed it, almost losing it at times, until he turned the corner and it was there, stronger than ever. He broke into a lope, head down and seeking, eager to catch up with whatever he was tracking.

The attack took him by surprise, bowling him off his feet. He growled and snapped, but his attacker was gone, a flash of dark fur around the corner. Jumping to his feet, Rodney followed, his blood rising in the thrill of the hunt. His quarry stayed just out of reach, although the glimpses Rodney caught soon convinced him he was chasing another wolf. Whining in eagerness, Rodney darted through a closing door and found himself on one of the piers, two full moons gleaming overhead. Skidding to a halt, he glanced around but didn't see the other wolf. With a huff, convinced he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere, Rodney turned to leave, hoping he could pick up the trail again inside. 

And found himself on his back, flipped over by the force of the dark wolf's attack. Twisting away, Rodney jumped back to his feet, the fur on his ruff rising as he lowered his head and growled. The other wolf stood a few yards away, licking its lips - Rodney's eyes and nose insisted on _his_ lips - before looking away. As Rodney advanced a few steps, the other shifted restlessly, turning to display his side, which Rodney interpreted as non-threatening. Relaxing his ruff, Rodney whined, which caused the other to dip his forequarters and bark before dashing away. Even Rodney, who'd always found social cues difficult, understood he'd been invited to chase the other in a game of wolfish tag. With a yip, he accepted.

Back and forth across the pier they ran, taking turns leading and chasing, until Rodney wheezed to a halt, completely out of breath. The other, who had been chasing, failed to stop in time and crashed into Rodney again. This time, Rodney fell badly and yelped, his hind leg caught beneath him. Pain shot through Rodney's hip and he growled, suddenly furious at the other's careless behavior. Lurching to his feet, Rodney attacked, his greater weight an advantage as he bore the other wolf to the ground, Rodney's teeth buried in the thick, dark fur of his throat. Growling deep in his own throat, Rodney pressed down until he felt the other whimper and relax. Giving the rude wolf a shake, Rodney finally let go, licking his lips, glad there was no taste of blood in his teeth. The other wolf remained down until Rodney nosed him, then he jumped to his feet, whining and licking Rodney's face. 

With a huff, Rodney turned his back to the other and limped to the edge of the pier to sit looking up at the moons. The other joined him but gave him some space, which Rodney appreciated because he was still irritated. They both sat quietly for a few minutes, the other only shifting restlessly a few times, but finally Rodney gave into the urge and howled. The other immediately joined in and they both crooned to the heavens, a winding harmony that yearned for deep forests and freedom. When their song ended, the other leaned in to lick Rodney's shoulder and Rodney didn't growl, the earlier trespass forgiven.

Weary, Rodney led the way back inside, both quietly padding along the dim corridors toward Rodney's quarters. When they reached his door, Rodney expected the other wolf to leave, but instead he followed Rodney inside. Rodney was thirsty but, lacking thumbs, he didn't know what to do about it. Fortunately, the other had the solution. Pacing into the bathroom, the darker wolf stared at the bathtub until it started to fill. It didn't take long for it to fill enough for them to stick their heads over the rim and quench their thirst, leaving Rodney thankful that Atlantis had sonic toilets.

Yawning, Rodney jumped onto his bed and circled a few times before settling down with a sigh. He closed his eyes and was almost asleep when he heard a whine. Without opening his eyes, Rodney wriggled further down the bed. The mattress dipped and shifted until a warm body nudged against Rodney's back, and then there was nothing.

 

Rodney watched quietly as John stirred and blinked himself awake, resisting the urge to say something – anything - about the night before. Maybe they could just pretend nothing had happened.

John, however, had a different plan. He sat up and looked around Rodney's room before clearing his throat to say, "Hunh. So that really happened." 

"Yes," was all Rodney could say, wincing as he watched John touch the dark bruise that Rodney had left under his jaw. 

John laughed and then pounced, startling a yelp from Rodney as John flattened him against the bed. "Wolves." John grinned down at Rodney before throwing his head back in his stupid braying laugh. Rodney closed his eyes in relief, which meant he was a few seconds behind when he felt warm lips touching his. He caught up quickly though, when John stopped kissing him long enough to whisper, "Cool." 

Very cool indeed.

**Author's Note:**

>  _All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel. …Think about it. There's escaping from the wolves, fighting the wolves, capturing the wolves, taming the wolves. Being thrown to the wolves, or throwing others to the wolves so the wolves will eat them instead of you. Running with the wolf pack. Turning into a wolf. Best of all, turning into the head wolf. No other decent stories exist._ Margaret Atwood, 'The Blind Assassin' (2000).
> 
> I picked this up as a pinch-hit, so I didn't have time to expand on it as much as I would have liked. No promises, but perhaps there will be more in the future.


End file.
